


The Reluctant Patient

by BarricadeButterfly



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Café Musain, Confrontations, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Kissing, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pining Grantaire (Les Misérables), Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26549086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarricadeButterfly/pseuds/BarricadeButterfly
Summary: Grantaire is pining as usual over his unrequited love for Enjolras who has done a disappearing trick. When he tracks him down, he gets a surprise which starts off a chain of events he could never dare to even imagine (and he imagines A LOT!!)It’s basically an excuse to explore a bit of role reversal with the boys.... And really just the LONGEST NIGHT EVER!! A sickfic that grew into a manageable monster...I meant for this to be a one shot but by the time the first few pages had finished running away with me, I decided chapters might be a good idea!Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 53





	1. At Musain

It wasn’t like Enjolras to be late so they immediately knew something was wrong. Had it been Jehan ringing at the eleventh hour to offer some garbled excuse about losing track of time at the allotment or Combeferre sending his apologies by text because his clinic was running late, nobody would have been the slightest bit alarmed but Enjolras not showing was another matter. The absurdity of the most organised man on the planet missing his own meeting hadn’t gone unnoticed by any of the small group of friends but none more so than Grantaire.

Sat in his usual spot by the top of the stairs (which clearly had nothing to do with perfect placement for the best view of Enjolras as he headed up the meetings with yet another of his impassioned speeches) Grantaire nursed a lukewarm black coffee and felt the uneasiness grow inside him. The others were getting fidgety with it too, he could tell, but they were killing time downing round after round of coffees and mindless chatter to fill the gigantic hole that Enjolras’ absence caused. Funny how someone so physically slender could occupy such a vast space but then Enjolras had always been a natural leader who seemed able to command the attention of any room with relative ease. Hell, right now, he was doing it without even being in the building!

Not for the first time, Grantaire reminded himself that it may well have been only he so acutely aware of the absence of this man that the air seemed to be drying up in the room without him because, to his knowledge at least, none of the other guys were secretly in love with him (thank god). It was different for Grantaire, of course, who had enough trouble keeping Enjolras from his every waking thought at the best of times. Right now, the panic was knotting in his stomach and he couldn’t drown it in an onslaught of coffee or distract himself with infuriating talk of anything else. Therefore, it seemed altogether safest just to say nothing at all and so he did just that, sat huddled over his unwanted cup, drumming his fingers against the stained porcelain. He didn’t see when Courfeyrac nudged the arm of Joly beside him and nodded in Grantaire’s direction and he was so lost in his own mind that he didn’t even register when his friend got up and crossed the room to him.

“That’s gotta be stone cold now,” said Courfeyrac in far too cheery a voice as he slapped a hand on Grantaire’s back and reached down to collect his cup. “I’ll get you another. Black again?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, great, thanks,” Grantaire mumbled distractedly.

“Coming right up.”

Grantaire was still in the same spot, elbows on the table, brow creased and mouth set in a tight straight line when the cup, now full and steaming, was placed back in front of him and he only looked up when Bossuets voice thundered from across the room. “For god’s sake, call him already!”

It took him a moment to realise the instruction had been barked at him and when he realised that all eyes were now watching him and awaiting a response, he felt the familiar return of heat creeping up the back of his neck. Sometimes, times like this in particular, he had to check himself and put on a better façade. It was all too obvious right now that his panic for Enjolras’ absence stepped way out over the boundaries of friendly concern.

“Call who?” he offered and even to his own ears realised how pathetic that sounded. There was feigning indifference and then there was just downright unbelievable-by-any-measure stupidity and he inwardly winced at how he had gone with the latter. In a weak attempt to divert attention from himself and the scene he had unwittingly created, he drank from his cup which was still too hot and instantly scalded his tongue.

Courfeyrac was still standing over him but he sat now in the vacant seat at Grantaire’s side, leaned forward slightly to pull his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and scrolled down to Enjolras’ number. He held it to his ear for a moment and then passed it over to Grantaire. “It’s ringing.”

Grantaire didn’t have time to make worrying assumptions about why he seemed to have been elected spokesperson for the ‘Enjolras Where The Bloody Hell Are You?’ group but his breath still caught nervously as he listened to the dial tone in his ear. There was a blissful second of Enjolras’ voice before he realised it was only the recorded voicemail message.

“Umm, yeah, Apollo, it’s me… and the guys. We’re all kind of… uh, wondering… why you’re not here yet. Give us a call back, yeah? Cool… Bye,” he said inelegantly and passed the phone back to Courfeyrac quickly. He was annoyed with himself that he had sounded so nonchalant. It was one thing to be careful not to give away his secret but quite another to just come off as a totally unfeeling bastard. After years of fighting against and eventually with these feelings he still didn’t know how to draw the right boundaries.

“To the point, I guess,” said Joly from the next table and picked up his previous conversation with Combeferre, their interest adequately piqued.

Only Courfeyrac was still watching him, his mouth curling up into a gentle smile. He waited until the chatter around them had properly resumed and then said “Maybe he’s just held up at work? He was going to come straight here from the office wasn’t he? We could ring there. Or maybe he’s decided to run home and grab a shower and change or something.”

_Helpful,_ thought Grantaire trying desperately to keep out the image of Enjolras loosening off his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, stepping out of his trousers and into the hot steam of the shower, maybe his eyes flutter close as he turns his face up into the stream of water and Grantaire could swear he could almost hear the sound of it running over Enjolras’s soft pale skin, quickly reddening under the warmth, his hair now saturated and tiny droplets falling from each curl onto his strong shoulders, maybe pooling a little in the dip of his collarbone…. Holy hell.

He crammed the image into the overflowing file of _beautiful Enjolras pictures_ in the back of his mind to be recalled later when he was alone to enjoy it and sat up straighter in his chair. “Doesn’t sound like Enj, not when he knows we’re waiting.”

“Maybe someone should go round and check? Just in case,” said Courfeyrac. “You drove in, didn’t you?”

The prospect of getting into his car and driving round to Enjolras’ house rather than enduring one more minute of infuriating nothingness was enticing enough without the potential added bonus of seeing Enjolras at the end of it. His fingers twitched with the urge to grab his keys and bolt out the door that very second but even Grantaire recognised that he couldn’t get away with that.

“If he’s not here by the time I’ve finished my coffee,” he said, feeling quite pleased with his choice of words and yet still inwardly sickened by them. Sometimes it was really hard to have to keep pretending that he didn’t care as much as he did. It felt like a betrayal to his own heart. In a way, it felt like a betrayal to Enjolras too and that was even worse.

He reached for his cup but before his hand got there, Courfeyrac had grabbed it and slid it out of his reach. “Just go,” he said quietly and gave him an encouraging little nod.

It was the only green light he needed. In a moment, Grantaire was up and out the door, car key already clenched tightly in his grip.


	2. Bad News

Contrary to what Grantaire had expected, it was actually worse once he was alone in his car, making his way to Enjolras’ house. He was free now to indulge in his angst, crippling longing and very real fear now that something bad had happened to Enjolras. There was no way he would have been able to explain it to the guys back at the café Musain but it was like a primal sixth sense of some sort, although to be fair, he felt as if all his average human senses were heightened at present anyway. A streak of cold felt at that very moment as if it was snaking its way right through the centre of every nerve in his body and he knew – somehow just _knew_ – that it was linked to Enjolras. Everything that lived inside Grantaire and made him who he was had long ago been lost in the mass of Enjolras protons that seemed to have taken over control of his being.

“Please, please be all right,” he whispered as he drove the familiar streets as slowly as he could force himself to. It didn’t help that he was just in time to propel at 70 miles an hour right into the rush hour traffic. Cursing, Grantaire eased his foot off the pedal until the speedometer flickered over 30 and tried to force himself to sit back in his seat and relax. _Deep breaths R, deep breaths._

He had just about got himself under some sort of control when his phone started vibrating on the passenger seat beside him and made him jump so suddenly that the car actually shook. Fumbling to grab it without taking his eyes off the road because he didn’t trust himself at all right now, he brushed the screen to unlock with his thumb and hit the speakerphone icon.

Courfeyrac’s voice blasted out into the car. “Are you at Enj’s yet R?”

“No, I hit the damn work flow. Why?”

There was the very slightest delay before he answered but it was enough to put the fear of god into Grantaire. “Don’t bother, he’s not there. Cosette just rang from the office. She said they had a hold up in there this afternoon. Two fucking nutters firing a bloody shooter for Christ’s sake! That new kid on reception got it right in the chest! She’s in hospital now but it’s not certain she’ll make it, so Cosette says.”

“Jesus Fuck! Where is Enj then? Is he ok?” asked Grantaire as another wave of cold dread rushed through his body, this one substantially more tidal than the last.

“He’s at hospital too, R. The fucking idiot only tackled the guys, didn’t he? Playing the damn hero again as usual! Fucking good it did him though seeing as one of them got away and the other one pulled a fucking knife on him!” Courfeyrac spat out with more profanities in one sentence than Grantaire had ever heard him utter in the whole time he’d known him. Not that he was paying attention to such trivial details.

“ _What the fuck_? Is he hurt?”

“Cosette says there was a lot of blood but he walked out to the ambulance so that’s gotta be a good sign,” said Courfeyrac although they both knew that was more likely to have been down to his stubbornness than anything else.

“He’ll be ok though, right? Courf, tell me he’ll be ok…” Grantaire’s voice was breathy and low and he could barely hear his own words over the sudden ringing in his ears.

“I don’t know. He’s been at the hospital all afternoon and she hasn’t been able to get hold of him,” Courfeyrac replied and there was a fear in his voice that he couldn’t disguise. “Jesus, R, what’s going on? What the hell was that noise? Are you ok?”

Grantaire ignored the guy in the black Saab who was flipping him off with one hand and thumping the horn on his steering wheel with the other as he spun his own car in a tight circle around the man and sped off in the opposite direction. Who gave a shit about courtesies when Enjolras was in the damn hospital in god only knows what state? Some things were more important and there was _nothing_ more important than Enjolras.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just some tosser getting in my way. I’m on my way now. Should be there in less than ten.”

Not for one moment did Courfeyrac think he was talking about coming back to the café.

“Ring when you know how he’s doing, yeah? We’re all gonna wait here until we’ve heard from you.”

Grantaire mumbled something unintelligible by way of agreement and threw his phone back onto the passenger seat. He knew he was acting like an ass but he didn’t care. His head was swamped with a tsunami of thoughts and emotions and he couldn’t settle on any single one for more than a moment, not to mention the reel of images that his subconscious had decided to torture him with out of blind panic. He saw Enjolras throwing himself in the path of attack, the crease of determination in his brow, the flash of silver as the light caught the blade and pain contorting his beautiful face… _oh god…_ He saw him stumble and fall to the ground and saw as clear as day his body splayed out in a pool of blood as red as that garish coat he insisted on wearing on special occasions.

Trying to stop the flow before his mind conjured even worse images that had the potential to haunt him forever, Grantaire slowed his breathing with some effort and lowered the window to allow a gust of cool air to rush onto his face. He had hoped it would stop him from wanting to throw up all over himself but if anything, it had the opposite effect, and also made him realise how much he was sweating.

By the time he arrived at the hospital, he felt so sick in his stomach that it lurched dangerously as he jumped out of the car and raced across the car park as fast as he could on legs that didn’t seem to remember how to work properly.

_Hold on Enj, I’m coming… Be ok… please god be ok…_ The sound of his voice saying the words was a lot more loving in his head than he knew it could ever be when spoken aloud.

At the reception desk, a bespectacled red headed woman observed his dishevelled appearance with unashamed distaste and after making him confirm more times than was surely necessary that no he wasn’t a family member and no, there was no contactable relation available nearby, she reluctantly offered directions to a waiting room on the third floor. Wasting no time, Grantaire took the stairs and made his way hence.

He didn’t know what he was expecting to find as he shouldered open the double doors and burst into the waiting room area but it certainly hadn’t, for one moment, been the sight of Enjolras himself, stood there plain as day in the softly illuminated path of the setting sun from the window behind that made him look like a divine (if slightly battered) angel.

It wasn’t the overwhelming relief that floored Grantaire and made him want to collapse at Enjolras’ feet right there and then, although it made his head spin with a dizzy drunken lightness. It wasn’t the nauseating sight of his blood soaked white shirt, nor the tell tale bandages around his left shoulder. It wasn’t even the spattered spots of dried blood on his face and the split and swollen bottom lip that looked as if it was calling out for care and attention.

It was none of these things that made him want to fall to his knees; it was the unexpected softness in Enjolras’ voice when he looked up to see him and simply said “Grantaire.”

“What are you… how are you… what the hell happened?” he stumbled, trying to make sense of the vision before him.

In a moment, Enjolras had regained his composure and as the fleeting moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability withered as fast as it had bloomed, Grantaire inwardly cursed himself for not choosing better words and killing it dead.

“I’m fine, it’s not as bad as it looks. I just had a pasting and got a knife in my damn shoulder blade but they’ve stitched it up and I’m good to go,” said Enjolras dismissively. “How did you know I was here?”

“I… uhh…. Cosette rang to tell us. I… well, we…. were worried when you didn’t show for the meeting.” Grantaire was still struggling to string coherent words together. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a prompt told him to ring the guys as promised but it would have to wait a moment or two longer. Besides which, he wasn’t certain he hadn’t left his phone laying on the passenger seat of the car anyway.

“Ah shit, the meeting,” said Enjolras with more frustration than was warranted given his current predicament. “Sorry.”

Grantaire almost laughed. “Screw the meeting! For Christ’s sake, Enj. What the hell are you doing attacking some idiot who’s waving a gun around? You could have been killed!”

“I didn’t attack _that one_ , although I would if I’d had the chance, the little shit. He was out the door with nearly a grand from Cosette’s register before I had the chance. The new girl she was training got in the way though and she got the worst of it.” Enjolras sank his head and rubbed taut fingers across his forehead. “Jesus, I hope she’s ok.”

“Yeah, I heard,” said Grantaire, purposefully keeping the rest of his limited knowledge on that particular matter to himself. Enjolras was already suffering enough, if he wasn’t aware of the extent of the poor girl’s injuries, then there was no need to hurry to fill him in on the details. His hand had gone limp but his head was still bent down dejectedly and Grantaire had to fight the urge to rush over and cradle it against him. “Look, will you please just sit down? You should be resting for crying out loud, what are you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be in a bed and… and I don’t know, be monitored or something?”

Unexpectedly, Enjolras did as he was told and lowered himself into a chair and choking back his surprise, Grantaire was glad of the excuse to do the same because his weak legs were protesting crazily by this point.

“I’ve been here for hours already. I just want to go home but I’ve got to wait for them to bring my paperwork and meds through. You know what it’s like in these places. God only knows how long they’re gonna make me wait.”

“You’re not being kept in overnight?” As much as Grantaire suspected that his stubborn headed companion had doubtless been advised to do exactly that and in true Enjolras form, fought against it with undeterrable force, he was secretly glad. Enjolras didn’t belong in a place like this.

“Hell no! I’ve got way too much to do.”

Grantaire shook his head and smirked, in spite of himself. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

Enjolras looked genuinely confused. “Say what?”

“Nothing, forget it. But you’re not staying here alone. I’ll wait with you and drive you home. Have you got your phone on you? I said I’d let the guys know and I’ve left mine in the car.”

It seemed to take Enjolras a moment to register the request before he fumbled in his pocket for the device and as he passed it into Grantaire’s hand, his fingers brushed tantalisingly against the awaiting palm and when he smiled, just a hint of the previous softness had returned.

“Thanks, R.”

“Anytime,” said Grantaire, ignoring the heat that prickled in his skin at the briefest touch of those beautiful fingers.


	3. A Welcome Guest

By the time Grantaire finally pulled the car onto the driveway, it was well into the evening and the sky had turned a deep indigo and swapped a full summer sun for a slither of a crescent moon. It was just visible over the roof of Enjolras’ house, like an ethereal candle had been poked into the chimney and set alight.

A significantly brighter glow from the streetlamps either side of the building lit up the two figures as they made their way to the door in a slightly staggering motion. It hadn’t been his intention, of course, but what else could Grantaire have done when Enjolras got out of the car and wobbled so unsteadily that he crashed back into the open door? By the time they had stumbled down the path and Enjolras was holding up his keys so the light could help him select the right one, the man propping him up was so lost in the exquisite feel of the arm draped around his shoulders that he couldn’t speak. It had been the other way round plenty of times when Enjolras had helped him stagger home after one too many on a Friday night, sometimes practically dragging him along the street to a well established lecture on “acting his age and needing to learn the difference between getting drunk and being an utter dick.” On those occasions, Grantaire had been too smashed out of his face to pay attention to anything other than the melody of Enjolras’ voice and had only played up to it even more because there was something so sexy about his angry tone.

Tonight, however, he had never in his life felt more sober.

“Sorry, I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me,” said Enjolras, his face flushed with embarrassment as he unhooked his arm and leant on the doorframe instead. The door was swinging open but he just stood there, catching his breath. It was scary to witness; Enjolras who was usually unbreakable and strong to a fault, teetering on the spot and struggling to support his own weight, which was even worse when considering how slim he was.

“Are you kidding me?” said Grantaire, finding his voice at last. “Jesus Enj, you’ve been stabbed for gods sake. How do you expect to be feeling right now? You’re not bloody Superman, no matter what you think.”

“Hey, I could be suited up ready under these clothes for all you know,” he answered in an unusual attempt at humour which he instantly regretted when Grantaire visibly tensed beside him. His eyes shot to the other man’s, significantly wider than they had been a moment ago, and he laughed nervously. “That was pathetic. I don’t know where my head’s at tonight! I think the meds they gave me are starting to kick in.”

Shaking his head against the completely inappropriate image of Enjolras in skin tight lycra (another one for the album) Grantaire reached past him to flick the light switch on and gently nudged him over the doorstep. “Not to mention the shock. You should probably eat something sooner rather than later too.”

Away from the darkness of the evening, Enjolras looked even paler than usual. It contrasted blindingly with the blood on his shirt which even now it had dried and darkened still looked vibrant in comparison with the pasty hue of his skin.

“Pizza? I’ll buy… Unless you have to be somewhere of course… I mean, no worries,” he stuttered.

It was such unusual behaviour that it took Grantaire a moment to realise that this strong independent man didn’t want to be alone. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face when he answered with “Pizza sounds good.”

*

In truth, there was only one thing in that house that Grantaire wanted to put in his mouth and it certainly wasn’t pizza but he dutifully searched out the menu from the filing cabinet and scanned it for the number. ( _It always made him laugh that Enjolras had a filing cabinet in his house and it even had numbered labels, for gods sake. Even better that he kept important things like takeaway menus in it. Good god, how he loved the man!)_

While Grantaire was occupied getting their food ordered, Enjolras decided that he would “quickly jump in the shower” even though it was painfully obvious that he was unable to quickly jump anywhere right now. What followed was quite possibly the longest half hour of Grantaire’s life. It was bad enough knowing that Enjolras was just a few metres away from him, on the other side of a closed door, peeling off his clothes right at that moment while Grantaire collapsed onto the sofa with a frustrated sigh and wished he’d never been born. It was worse, however, when he heard the faint but clearly audible sound of running water and the occasional noise of things being moved around and he had to turn the TV on and turn it up loud to stop himself from going crazy.

After thirty long minutes, he couldn’t stand it anymore and got up to get himself a beer from the kitchen. He had downed that and was considering helping himself to another (screw it, he’d just leave the car here and walk home) when the doorbell rang with the pizza delivery and he realised Enjolras still hadn’t reappeared from the bathroom.

Reaching for the tv remote, he hit the mute button and did the exact opposite as he had been previously doing; listening for the sound of water, movement, anything. It was deadly quiet in there and he felt the panic of the day begin to bubble up again inside him.

“Enj? Are you gonna be long? Food’s here,” he called hopefully.

There was silence, then a shuffling sound and after a moment, he heard Enjolras’ stifled voice through the door. “Yeah… yeah… on my way.”

The wooden barrier between them may have muffled his words but Grantaire caught not only each syllable but the undeniable emotion that clung to each one. He threw the pizza box down on the table and crossed the short distance to the bathroom door, hesitating for just a moment before he tapped gently upon it.

“Are you ok?” he called, not knowing what to expect as a reply but certainly not expecting the one he got.

“Door’s open,” came Enjolras’ voice, quiet, flat and dispassionate and nothing like Enjolras.

It was clearly an invitation and Grantaire was not about to decline it but when he worked the handle and pushed it away from him, he wasn’t entirely sure what he expected to be greeted by. What he saw was an obviously dejected Enjolras, squeaky clean now and dressed in khaki sweat pants and a white t-shirt, perched on the edge of the bath with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

When he heard Grantaire’s entrance, he looked up and sighed a long breathy sigh that seemed to tremble through his entire body and said, “I just can’t… holy hell.”

It was unsettling to see Enjolras so vulnerable, so susceptible to weakness and pain, so _human._ He had always been the strongest one of the group of friends, “the leader” as such, and he was the one who leant strength to others when they needed it; hell, Grantaire had taken advantage of that plenty of times over the years. Yet here he was looking like a broken shell of fallen glory and it was the most beautiful sight Grantaire had ever seen.

“What’s going on mate?” Grantaire asked, still stood in the doorway with his fingers still gripped around the handle because he just couldn’t trust himself to go a step closer to the man right now.

“Why didn’t I stop them, R? I should have done something.”

When Enjolras caught his gaze the sadness that was heavy in those deep eyes was enough to break Grantaire’s heart open.

“Hey, you _DID_ do something. You stopped one of them, remember? You tried-”

“And failed.”

“Come on, don’t do that. One of the little fuckers is in a prison cell tonight because of you and it won’t be long before they get the other.”

“And one of my staff is in a hospital bed. She’s just a girl, barely more than a teenager for Christ’s sake!” said Enjolras, unable to keep the emotion from his voice as he leant his head back into his fists and rubbed them against his skin in frustration.

Grantaire couldn’t remember a single other time he had ever been needed to comfort this man – a man who never asked for comfort from anyone. It was true that Combeferre and Bossuet had both been a voice of reason for him many times, keeping him grounded when his impulses over the latest cause he had become impassioned with began to take him over, Joly always had a knack for saying the right thing at the right time and making him laugh when no one else could and Courfeyrac seemed to have an endless calming effect on him when it was needed, but then Courfeyrac had that effect on everyone. Grantaire, however, supplied none of these or any other real discernible credits of friendship to Enjolras other than offering him the role of a sparring partner from time to time, considering how easily they seemed to clash over the most minor of things. Particularly after a drink or two.

Any one of the group of friends would have been a better choice than him but Grantaire was glad that the job fell to him alone that night. Not least because he felt sure it was physically impossible for anyone to care about this man more than he did (even if he wasn’t allowed to express it) and additionally, he wanted Enjolras to know that he too could be counted on when needed and here was a chance to prove it. Grantaire just didn’t know how.

Without saying a word, he walked across the room to Enjolras and perched beside him on the edge of the bath. He didn’t know what to say but it seemed like a good idea to at least move close enough to show he was there and he was listening, although there were no more words coming out of Enjolras’ mouth to listen to right then. Grantaire could feel the warmth of the recent shower like a damp haze around him, could smell the shower gel and the wetness of his hair. He was pretty sure he had even caught sight of tears clinging to his eye lashes although it could have been leftover water droplets; either way Grantaire was glad he couldn’t see them now, sat side by side with Enjolras, as his fingers were already fighting the urge to brush the drops of perspiration from his skin.

“You want a beer?” he asked eventually, finally breaking the silence.

“Is that your answer to everything?” Enjolras shot back but when he turned his head to look at him, there was an amused smirk on his face.

“Pretty much.”

Enjolras breathed out a snorting scoff in response but for once, there was no derision in it.

“Thanks, R,” he said as the smirk on his face softened into a smile. “For being here, I mean. And for waiting with me at the hospital for nearly two goddamn hours. You must be so sick of me today!”

“Like I could ever be sick of you!” The words were out before he could stop them and Grantaire felt the heat rush to his face. Instinctively, he shot a look at Enjolras who looked slightly wide-eyed and stunned but laughed anxiously and playfully nudged him in the arm.

“Looks like one of us has already had a beer!”

Grantaire couldn’t argue with that because it was true. Still, for the briefest of moments he let himself hear the words he so badly wanted to say in his head… _Enjolras, I love you so damn much it’s fucking killing me. How the hell can you not know how badly I want you right now? How is it not obvious? Jesus what I wouldn’t do just for one damn kiss on those perfect lips…_

Suddenly, Enjolras raised a hand and pressed a light fingertip to the cut on his mouth, dabbing at it gently before he withdrew his hand and inspected it. “What? Is it bleeding again?”

“Oh… uhh… no, you’re fine,” said Grantaire, realising he had been staring for too long and snapping his head round to look away.

“Hey, is there any pizza left?”

“Yeah, I haven’t had any.”

“Cool, I could do with some mindless TV and comfort food. Don’t know how I’m gonna eat it though,” said Enjolras as he dabbed again at his split lip and leant on the rim of the bathtub to push himself up to a standing position.

 _Me either,_ thought Grantaire for an entirely different reason and got up to follow him.


	4. Endless Night

By Midnight, Enjolras had fallen asleep on the sofa and there was no way in the world Grantaire was going to leave him. He had been slumped back against the cushions and not moved for some time as the TV hummed in the corner and kept the two companions quiet, but when his head lolled down against Grantaire’s shoulder and he didn’t make a move to lift it again, it became obvious that he had passed out. A moment later, his breath steadied and he began softly snoring into the hollow of Grantaire’s neck. The other man, who was wide awake by comparison, sat rigidly upright at his side, fearing to move or even breathe too vigorously himself for fear of disturbing the moment of bliss that he had been so unexpectedly blessed with.

It was a tempting thought to reach up and grab the throw from the back of the sofa, drape it over their bodies and snuggle into the warmth of Enjolras for the rest of the night but he felt like some sort of abusive creep just considering it. This battered and bruised man had felt safe enough to find sleep in his presence; it would feel like a violation of his trust to turn that to his advantage. Having said that, was it equally wrong to disturb him when he had finally got comfortable after such a harrowing day? _One minute more then. Maybe two._

Grantaire was still fighting against himself when his phone buzzed with a text message. At the sound of it, Enjolras stirred but didn’t wake, instead only turning his head even more into Grantaire’s neck. The weight of him felt so solid and good, not to mention the warmth of his breath as it fluttered against Grantaire’s skin. Trying to ignore the twitching movement between his legs, he carefully reached one arm out to grab his phone and turned it away from Enjolras so the bright light of the screen wouldn’t wake him.

The message was from Courfeyrac.

\- _ARE YOU STILL WITH E?_

With quick nimble fingers, Grantaire typed in the shortest reply possible.

_-YES._

_-THOUGHT YOU MIGHT BE. HE OK?_

Grantaire debated this for a moment before he replied. The truth was that he hadn’t seen Enjolras in this state before; not just physically beaten but emotionally so as well. Vulnerability wasn’t something Enjolras was happy to express. Would he want the others to know he had done so?

_-SORT OF. SHOULDER FUCKED UP BUT GAVE STITCHES AND MEDS. ASLEEP ON SOFA NOW._

_-YOU STAYING THERE TONIGHT?_

It was pointless lying and he knew Courfeyrac would judge him if he left anyway. What sort of friend would leave a man in this state?

_-YEAH. HAD DRINK ANYWAY._

It was a good few minutes before the next message arrived.

_-JEHAN AND I WILL BE ROUND IN MORN. FERRE’S GONNA COME ROUND AFTER WORK. SEE YOU THEN IF YOU’RE STILL THERE. GUESSING YOU WILL BE. MAKE HIM REST. YOU KNOW WHAT HE’S LIKE._

Grantaire let the phone fall back onto the sofa beside him and glanced down at the sleeping face nestled against him, turned slightly upwards so the subdued light in the dark room pooled over his skin. There was one single blonde curl that had fallen in such a way that it was resting on the lashes of his left eye. The urge to reach out a hand and gently brush it away was overwhelming but when he trained his eyes away from it, they only fell on the gash to his bottom lip instead and that was even worse. If he allowed himself to stare at that mouth he wouldn’t be able to move for the rest of the night.

With as much tenderness as possible, Grantaire eased himself out from under the weight of Enjolras, grabbing the cushion from the back of the sofa to replace him as support. When the throw was carefully draped over Enjolras, he responded with an insensible little moan of contentment and Grantaire sucked his breath in as he turned away. He was almost relieved to curl up in the armchair opposite and close his eyes. It was too much. Far too much.

“I love you Apollo,” he whispered and tried not to cry.

*

It was nothing short of a miracle that Grantaire managed to sleep at all that night, fully clothed and squished up into the armchair with Enjolras directly opposite him, so close and so far away at the same time. He was glad for once to feel completely wiped out with the emotion of the day and when sleep finally nudged at him, he welcomed it. There was still darkness in the room, however, when his eyes snapped open again some time later and the first thing he noticed was that Enjolras was gone.

It took him a moment to register what it was that had woken him until he heard another clattering sound from somewhere behind him. The only light in the room was coming from the bathroom opposite and when he rose to investigate, he saw Enjolras in almost exactly the same position as he had been in earlier that night, only now he was sat on the floor in front of the bathtub in just his sweat pants, fiddling with a plastic container that was spilling it’s contents all over the tiles. As he moved closer, Grantaire saw it was a first aid box and among the plasters and tubes of ointments and creams, there was a length of bandage that had been unwound messily. One end was now bunched up in Enjolras’ hand and the other was in his teeth; the bit in between was wrapped clumsily around his shoulder.

“Hey…” he said sleepily. “What you doing?”

“Bloody thing came loose,” said Enjolras through a mouthful of bandage and without looking up.

“You need some help with that?”

He didn’t answer straight away but when he pulled the bandage tighter and winced in obvious pain, Grantaire didn’t wait any longer for one, rushing into the room and dropping onto his knees maybe a little more eagerly than he had intended. It was an instant reaction to seeing the man in pain and he just couldn’t help himself. The action didn’t appear to be unwelcome anyway as Enjolras held out his hand and uncurled his fingers from around the bandage, leaning back against the support of the bathtub with a long sigh as Grantaire took over.

“This looks pretty bad Enj,” he said as he wrapped the material around the curves of Enjolras’ arm and shoulder with as much delicacy as possible. The square of gauze that was padded against the fresh stitches had a worrying patch of blood that looked too vibrant to not be fresh. It worried Grantaire so much that he almost forgot he was sat on the floor in front of a half-naked Enjolras with his hands on his bare skin. _Almost._ “Are you sure you shouldn’t be at the hospital?”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” he insisted though the expression on his face said otherwise.

As the end of the bandage was positioned and tied in place, Enjolras sucked in a sudden breath and gasped in pain.

“Sorry! I’m shit at this,” said Grantaire and his hands shot away from Enjolras as if they had just been burnt. He hung his head and started busying himself with collecting up the spilled contents of the box, muttering under his breath as he worked. “So bloody useless.”

“Don’t!”

The one word was said with such force and feeling that it made Grantaire stop dead and snap his head back up to catch the bright eyes that were staring at him. There was something in them he couldn’t read but it felt like affection.

“Don’t,” Enjolras repeated, more softly this time. “Stop running yourself down. You have to stop doing that R. You’re always doing it and it’s bloody infuriating, you know?”

Grantaire couldn’t help but smile. “That’s me!”

“You’re doing it again! Don’t make me kick your ass.”

“Like you could manage that right now!”

“I’d find a way,” said Enjolras and a shiver tickled its way up Grantaire’s spine because with the smoothness of his voice when he said the words and the way he held his stare and held it with such conviction, it almost felt like flirting. After a moment, he seemed to catch himself and looked away, laughing nervously. “Well fuck sleep tonight. I’m gonna make coffee. You want?”

“Go on then,” Grantaire agreed, knowing that he had no chance of getting back to sleep with or without coffee anyway.

It took a substantial amount of effort to resist helping Enjolras to his feet so he continued picking up the contents of the first aid box and shoving it messily back into place as the other man staggered to an upright position and with another hefty sigh once he’d accomplished it, made his way out of the room. Grantaire took another moment to compose himself and then followed.

“You wanna watch a movie or something? Or have you still got that new playstation game that Bossuet leant you? I haven’t tried it out yet. We could- Enj? What’s the matter?” Grantaire stopped as he entered the kitchen and saw Enjolras stood with the empty coffee pot in one hand and his mobile phone in the other. It was the latter he was concentrating on, swiping at the screen with his thumb and frowning.

“Eight missed calls from Cosette. And a text telling me to call her ASAP.”

“It’s probably from earlier, just checking to see how you are most likely.”

Enjolras flicked his wrist around to look at his watch.

“No, she only sent it…. twenty minutes ago. It’s nearly half two for Christ’s sake. It must be important,” he said, already tapping the number out on the screen.

Grantaire walked over to the breakfast bar and leant against it with his arms folded as he waited for the call to play out, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach leading him to have a fairly good idea of just how it might do so. On this occasion he wasn’t happy to be right when he heard Enjolras’ half of the conversation with Cosette.

“Oh jesus no!” he exclaimed, running his free hand roughly through his hair. “Oh god… oh god… I can’t believe it… When? Where are you? Do her family know?”

Grantaire waited quietly in the background and when Enjolras eventually ended the call, his hand falling limply to his side with the phone still clutched within it, he asked tentatively “Enj… Is it the girl who got shot?”

“Azelma,” he said in a voice that was suddenly devoid of all the emotion it had just moments ago been heavy with. He both looked and sounded numbed into submission when he continued, “They couldn’t save her. She died in theatre.”

Grantaire didn’t speak because he couldn’t think of a single useful thing to say. He mirrored Enjolras as they stood apart from each other like two subtly swaying statues and the lack of movement and noise in the room was stifling. There was a big part of him that wanted to go to Enjolras and wrap his arms around him but there was just as big a part of him that didn’t want to get punched in the gut. He could see the look on the troubled man’s face fighting against waves of sadness and anger, equal in their strength and hold over him. Knowing Enjolras, it was more likely that anger would triumph and though he knew it wouldn’t be intentionally aimed at him, Grantaire didn’t want to put himself in the firing line.

“Oh man, I’m so sorry,” he said eventually.

“Yeah…” Enjolras began and it was clear he was no longer paying attention. “I think… think I might just go to bed actually… You have coffee if you want it.”

He walked past him with purposeful steps and was out the room before there was a chance to reply.

 _Screw it,_ thought Grantaire and followed him less than a minute later.

It wasn’t just his own need that motivated his movements as he exited the kitchen just in time to see the hastily retreating figure disappearing at the top of the stairs; he knew that this was a prime opportunity for Enjolras to be his own worst enemy again, to run from weakness like it was a predator on his tail threatening death with each step, to hide from his own brokenness until he had courage enough to face the world again with the strength he was so proud of and so celebrated for. Well that wasn’t going to stop Grantaire from offering support when he knew it was needed, whether it was wanted or not.

He found Enjolras in his bedroom, stood by his bed, one hand gripping his side and the other gently massaging his bandaged shoulder. It was no surprise to Grantaire that the man had made his poor battered body ache more with the speed he had taken the stairs at. When he saw that he had been followed though, Enjolras looked neither surprised nor disappointed.

“My ribs feel like they’re on fire. Everything hurts damn it!” With that, he suddenly grabbed the lamp from the beside table and launched it across the room with a loud “ _FUCK!!!”_

The lamp crashed with force into the wall and at the same time, Enjolras sank to the bed with his head in his hands and sobbed violently.

It wasn’t that Grantaire had never seen him show emotion (how long had it taken Joly to stop teasing him after he had cried over the Save The Whales video he’d made them watch?) It was that he had never seen him fall apart in such utter heartrending defeat and pain. There was nothing in the world that could have stopped Grantaire right then as he closed the gap between them as quickly as he possibly could. He had barely enough time to open his arms before Enjolras was clinging to him, his head buried in Grantaire’s chest, full earth shattering sobs wracking his body and tears soaking the t-shirt that he was now hiding his face in.

Grantaire said nothing but held him as tightly as he could, cradling Enjolras’ head against his chest and allowing his fingers to become tangled in his hair. Enjolras shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, his legs parting slightly so he could get even closer and when Grantaire obliged by moving into the space provided, Enjolras wrapped his arms even more tightly around his waist, grabbing handfuls of his t-shirt in his fists and pressing so hard that Grantaire could feel the man’s knuckles against his spine.

“Shhh, it’s ok…. It’s ok,” he soothed in a whisper as he stroked a tender hand over Enjolras’ hair and leant his own head down closer so he could bury his face for a moment in the mass of blonde curls because he simply no longer had enough self-control not to.

They stayed this way for a while until the momentum of Enjolras’ tears began to ease and the violent sobs gave way to a quiet whimper, muffled more by the cover of Grantaire’s chest.

When Enjolras finally spoke, it was only to utter a few words but they hit the target like an arrow straight from the bow of Cupid himself: “Don’t let go of me.”

Without thinking Grantaire responded by nuzzling his face deeper into Enjolras’ hair and pressing his lips into a gentle kiss against the top of his head. He felt the threat of tears in his own eyes and waited for the inevitable backlash of horror at his action.

Only it never came. Instead, Enjolras’ hands loosened and fell from Grantaire’s back only to rise up again a moment later to clutch his waist, before they shifted in the most painstakingly slow movements to his behind.

It seemed almost too unbelievable to be true and Grantaire froze. How was it possible that he was stood here with his arms wrapped around this man who was currently cupping his palms to the curve of Grantaire’s behind, splaying his fingers to dig his nails into the material that kept skin from skin? A long breathy moan escaped from his lips and became lost in the shroud of Enjolras’ hair as he moved his fingers through the curls, pressing against the firmness of the scalp beneath as he stroked them slowly to the nape of his neck. Still neither of them had spoken and the silence was charged with such a feeling of anticipation and unspoken desire that it was like sparks of electricity floating upon the air around them. Enjolras raised his hands once more to Grantaire’s back, only this time making sure to slide them underneath the fabric so they could run free along his skin, tracing his fingers over the path of his spine as he lifted the t-shirt enough to be able to press his lips against the man’s chest.

“R…..” he breathed out the name in such a way that it sounded more like a moan than a word. “Help me… please.”


	5. Like Honey

“Anything… anything, tell me what you need.”

Despite the other man’s plea for help, Grantaire couldn’t keep the desperation from his own voice. He _needed_ to be wanted by Enjolras; needed to be needed, if only with a fraction of the amount of longing he felt in return. Anything was better than nothing when it came to Enjolras though Grantaire hated himself at times for being so utterly weakened by him. It was bordering on obsession but he just couldn’t help it and how was he supposed to when the man in question was clinging to him and begging him for help?

Enjolras raised his head so their eyes finally met and he felt Grantaire’s hands move to cup his face as he looked into the man’s eyes and said “Make me feel good. Make it better… Please make it better R.”

Grantaire could feel his skin still tingling euphorically from the feel of Enjolras’ mouth upon it for the briefest of moments and it was spreading like ravaging wildfire through his body. It almost scared him that he was capable of being so easily claimed with the lightest of kisses. Was it possible for pleasure to become so intense that it spilled over into pain; two extremes existing in perfect harmony and complimenting each other so beautifully? The only man who could answer that question for him was currently tracing his fingers over Grantaire’s ribs and stomach, learning how he felt to touch, as he looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“I can’t deny you anything,” said Grantaire as he looked down into the face he was still holding in his hands, brushing his thumbs gently over the strong jawline. “And you know that, don’t you?”

Maybe if Enjolras had been given a chance to answer, he would have told him that actually no, he hadn’t realised anything of the sort. At least, not until earlier that night when he had been lazily drifting in and out of a comfortable sleep on the sofa and had heard a whispered profession of love that had hit him with even greater force than the blade to his shoulder.

As it was, he had no chance to say anything in return as in a moment, his face was drawn up even further as Grantaire’s was lowered and they met together in an apprehensive but electrifying kiss. It was soft - almost too soft – but Grantaire was aware of the nasty cut in the swollen bottom lip that he was trying so hard to avoid as he teased Enjolras’s mouth with feathery brushes of his lips, slow careful kisses to every part of it, licking and gently sucking on the tender flesh until Enjolras’ lips parted invitingly, his tongue hungry for contact. A low moan escaped from the back of Enjolras’ throat but it was lost in the warm wetness of Grantaire’s mouth. The kiss deepened easily and if Enjolras’ cuts and bruises were hurting, he didn’t show it as he raised his hands to draw Grantaire’s head closer and claim more of his mouth, his tongue eager and determined as it explored.

There was a desperation growing within Enjolras and his movements couldn’t hide it as his hands became more frantic, scrabbling about under Grantaire’s t-shirt, pushing it up and over his head, then feeling their way hurriedly over his exposed chest, pausing for a moment to rub his fingertips over the pert nipples (an action which elicited an unleashed gasp of pleasure from Grantaire) before they were back at his waist, tugging inexpertly on the snap of his jeans. His breathing was heavy and hard, and he was pulling in deep trembling breaths as if he was quickly running out of oxygen between long frantic kisses.

“Enjolras,” the name rolled deeply and easily off Grantaire’s tongue like honey. “You’re shaking… are you ok?... Do you want to stop?”

He almost feared the answer but even in the midst of the exquisite intoxication of finally being wanted back by the man he had loved and craved for so long, Grantaire still couldn’t shake the knowledge that Enjolras was not behaving like himself tonight. He didn’t want to take advantage nor be taken advantage of; to his knowledge Enjolras’ heart may have been unaffected by such a thing but his certainly wouldn’t have been. Something inside him pulled back just a little, wary of giving in fully after hiding for so long.

Enjolras, by comparison, was suddenly confident enough for both of them as he pushed Grantaire’s jeans and boxers down to his ankles in one fluid movement where his companion was quick to step out of them and kick them across the floor.

“Does that answer your question?” he said, pulling away from Grantaire’s mouth but bringing his hand around to the back of his head to clasp a handful of his dark curls and keep him there. His eyes lingered over the lips he had been nibbling and kissing with such force that they were now almost as red and swollen as his own and as his gaze then drifted down.. down.. slowly, languidly, drinking in the sight of the naked body that was still stood between his legs, he murmured “Fuck, you are so hot… So fucking hot, R.”

Grantaire was inwardly clinging with the last ounce of his conviction to the wariness that scared him but it was obliterated in one sudden rush of pleasure as Enjolras’ hand closed around his hard, aching cock. He threw back his head, let his eyes flutter closed and moaned in blissful delight as he felt the warm palm and firm grip of Enjolras’ fingers around his shaft, pumping it in slow steady movements, gradually picking up speed, working him just enough to make his cock grow harder and hotter within his grasp.

“Oh Christ… that feels fucking amazing,” Grantaire moaned, pushing himself closer to Enjolras, trying to thrust with more force into his hand, quickly starting to lose control. Just the feel of it, to know it was _Enjolras’_ hand instead of his own and his imagination for once; reality blew every dream he’d ever had of this moment sky high.

Enjolras had quickly settled into a rhythm that Grantaire seemed to like and as he pleasured the man, he felt the hardness of his own cock throbbing against the inside of his sweat pants, straining for release. He had never been so close to exploding in orgasm without any touch whatsoever and it made him more hungry for this man, made his touch just a little too fast, a little too tight, as he reached his free hand round to dig his nails into the temptingly soft flesh of Grantaire’s ass cheek. The other man didn’t seem to mind though as the force became rougher, more desperate and the fact that Grantaire knew it was because Enjolras was starting to lose control only served to make him more excited.

Enjolras’ hand was slick from the warm beads of pre-come that had escaped from the other man’s slit and as he stroked his thumb over it, applying just the smallest but perfect amount of pressure, he heard another long groan escape from Grantaire’s mouth and felt his hips buck against him with growing desperation.

“How do you want to come, R?” he asked, as he once again picked up the pace. “Like this?”

“No… mouth… please,” Grantaire exclaimed in between panting breaths. “Wanna feel… your mouth around me… so bad…. Please, oh god… please.”

He hadn’t needed to beg but the sound of him doing so made Enjolras so impatient for him that he happily drew himself forward off the edge of the bed and sank to his knees. He winced slightly against the pain in the recent cut to his face as he opened his mouth to enclose his lips around Grantaire’s cock but it was nowhere near bad enough to stop him. In that moment, _nothing_ could have been. He still had one hand clasped around the shaft and the other clinging with fierce nails into the man’s ass cheek but as his hungry throat relaxed a little, he took more into his mouth and deepened the grip of his suction, releasing his hand so that he could finally encase Grantaire fully with just his mouth. The taste of the pre-come that had worked its way onto his tongue and down his throat was so good it made him suck harder and faster, feeling the explosion building up getting ready for release.

“Jesus… fuck,” Grantaire moaned, lost in the feeling of Enjolras’ tongue sliding back and forth against his cock, the delicious wetness and warmth of his mouth, the way he occasionally drew back for just a moment to flick his tongue over the head, trailing it oh-so-gently across his slit and earning himself yet another moan of pleasure from somewhere above. He wanted to see the beautiful face of the man who’s mouth he was claiming so wholly and passionately but he was so intoxicated with the feeling that if he’d have opened his eyes, he didn’t trust himself not to lose his balance and make them both crash over.

“Gonna… come…” he said between short breaths and when finally he was pushed over the edge, spraying the back of the other man’s throat with all his hot come, the next word left his lips in one long loud breathy gasp: “ _ENJOLRAS.”_

Grantaire gently swayed on the spot, dizzy with euphoria, as Enjolras raised his hands to grip the man’s waist and pulled himself up, ignoring the way his sore muscles and bruised ribs screamed in protest at the exertion. When he was on his feet, finally face to face with Grantaire, he waited for the delirious man’s eyes to flutter open and when they did, he locked onto their dilated gaze, smiled and said “I love it when you say my name like that.”

“ _Enjolras,_ ” Grantaire repeated slowly, softly, breathing life into every syllable.

As the fog of his mind cleared, a sudden thought hit; could that be the reason Enjolras purposefully riled him up so much at times that they ended up engrossed in another impassioned argument? Because Grantaire knew those were the only times he had ever addressed the man by his full name like this. Was it possible he was doing it on purpose just to hear it?

He let himself linger for a delicious moment over the sight of the captivating face staring back at him, so close to his own that he couldn’t tell who’s ragged breaths belonged to whom. Enjolras’ skin was flushed and moist with perspiration, trapping random curls against his forehead, his mouth was slightly open to accommodate his quick breathing, his lips still glistening, making them look even deeper and redder and more enticing, making the swollen cut seem to shrink back out of focus. When Grantaire’s gaze came to rest upon it, he gasped with the sudden realisation and pressed the tips of his fingers softly against it.

“Oh god, did that hurt? I’m so sorry… I didn’t think!”

Enjolras shook his head and brought their mouths back together as if to prove his point.

“Shh, it’s fine,” he soothed.

He kissed Grantaire passionately, deeply, his hands moving from the back of his neck to his shoulders and tracing a path down his spine to the small of his back, pulling him closer, starting to grind his hips against him, his throbbing erect cock now free from the confines of his sweat pants and rubbing against the soft curls between Grantaire’s legs as he desperately sought friction.

“Weren’t we supposed to be making you feel good?” Grantaire said, remembering the plea that had began all of this.

“You did… I love the feel of you in my mouth… the taste of you,” he murmured between hungry kisses. “Just like I imagined it.”

It was that moment – that exact second – Grantaire heard those words and felt the last wisps of trepidation leave him in a tumultuous wave of elation. _Enjolras had been imagining it, had been thinking of this just as he had been!_ He felt the fire rising within him, unable and unwilling to put it out this time. As his mouth became more demanding upon Enjolras’, he finally allowed his hands to roam free as they wished but they had barely brushed against the hard cock that was pressing into his groin when the other man let out a deep desperate moan and suddenly lurched forward at him. Before Grantaire knew what was happening, he felt Enjolras’ arms reach down to scoop around his thighs and lift him in one strong movement off the ground. Instinctively, Grantaire wrapped his legs around Enjolras’ middle, his arms clinging around his neck as he deepened his kiss and groaned with excited anticipation as he felt himself being lowered backwards onto the bed below.

Grantaire could feel his own cock already beginning to harden again as Enjolras moved over his body. He knew that Enjolras felt powerful in this position, his knees either side of Grantaire’s hips, his hands moving with gentle force to pin the man’s wrists down to the bed and to hold him there, hearing the little moans that escaped from Grantaire’s mouth as he writhed beneath him and pushed his head back to expose his neck. Taking his cue, Enjolras leant straight down to grab at the delicate skin with his mouth, his lips, his teeth; to suck and nibble and taste the delicious saltiness of Grantaire’s sweat on his tongue.

“Fuck… you drive me wild,” Grantaire gasped in desperation.

“Yeah, I noticed. And you’re a fucking idiot for not telling me sooner,” Enjolras admonished playfully but recognised that moment when he knew the control was now his to take at last.

Still straddling Grantaire, he raised himself up to a sitting position and reached his hands back down to stroke tantalising little circles across the man’s stomach with his fingertips. When Grantaire gazed up and locked eyes with him, he saw an expression of such bold self-assurance it was bordering on arrogance looking down at him from the face of Enjolras who held his stare as a smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. Pinned down below him, looking up into those confident eyes, Grantaire felt thoroughly powerless against the subject of his whims but he knew that was the point and he loved it. Enjolras was a natural leader, after all. If he wanted to lead him now, he was only too happy to let him.

Keeping his eyes trained on the other man’s, Enjolras leaned down with slow precision until their faces were almost touching and then moved his lips to Grantaire’s ear and whispered “Beautiful man… do you want me to fuck you?”

Grantaire couldn’t stop the groan that escaped from his mouth as he felt the heat rush through his body. “God yes… need you to.”

“Tell me. And say my name,” Enjolras whispered the instruction against his ear and brushed a far too gentle kiss onto the side of his face before he raised himself back up and awaited an answer.

“Do it… I’ll take whatever you give me….” Grantaire said, his voice starting to tremble as he looked straight into the mesmerizing eyes staring down at him. “ _FUCK ME ENJOLRAS._ ”

The wave of desire that coursed through Enjolras was so earth shatteringly powerful that he had to stop from launching himself straight into the man right there and then, so overwhelming was his need for him now. The sight of Grantaire laid on the bed below him, his chest rising and falling quickly in shallow panting breaths, his magnificent cock throbbing once more with renewed life, his glistening skin, the way his dark curls splayed out against the duvet when he threw his head back, the way he was so ready to be completely taken apart by this man, the need – the _absolute need_ – for Enjolras to take him …. It was the most overwhelmingly alluring and goddamn spectacular sight he had ever seen.

When he felt Grantaire’s legs pushing out against the inside of his thighs, eager for release, Enjolras cooperated by shuffling out of the way so the man was free to spread his legs for him. He laughed as he repositioned himself in between the strong legs that were scrabbling to wrap themselves around Enjolras’ body and draw him back close.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” he grinned.

Grantaire reached down to wrap his hand around Enjolras’ cock, rubbing his palm in long, firm massaging strokes along the shaft, relishing the rock solidness of it as he imagined how it would feel inside him, brushing the soft smoothness of the head with trembling fingertips, eager to familiarise himself with every part of this man’s glorious erection.

Eventually, he murmured “I’ve waited long enough for you… Don’t make me wait anymore.”

Enjolras was biting his lip, struggling to maintain his composure, carefully removing Grantaire’s hand from around him because if he didn’t, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Don’t worry R… Grantaire… my beautiful Grantaire…. I’ve got you.”


End file.
